


A Whiff Of Havana

by exartemarte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exartemarte/pseuds/exartemarte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy Parkinson comes to Harry Potter's professional attention a few years after Hogwarts. No sex as such, but a little exhibitionistic/voyeuristic naughtiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Whiff Of Havana

The recently appointed Under Secretary for Magical Law set out to tour her domain. While not one to interfere gratuitously in the running of the departments, Hermione Granger felt it did no harm to let the troops see her face from time to time.

"I'll be about an hour."

"Yes, Minister," replied her PA. The strictly correct mode of address was 'Madam Under Secretary', but that was a bit of a mouthful and 'Minister' was the usual form.

The Legal Drafting Office was, as ever, silent but for the rustling of reference books and the scratching of quills on parchment, as drafting of the _Wizarding Marriages (Amendment) Bill_ proceeded at the customary glacial pace.

At Magical Law Enforcement she found an altogether more sociable crowd, though much given to the dark humour common to policemen everywhere. She spent a little time there, leaving amused and only slightly embarrassed.

At the Auror Department she waited patiently while the wards on the door were adjusted to allow her entry. 

With a friendly smile Hermione looked round those present. "Good morning Harry, gentlemen, Miss Travers."

There was a chorus of "Good morning, Minister." Outside they were friends, but here she expected Harry to observe the formalities.

There was discussion of the search for still missing Death Eaters, and the usual plea for better, or at least adequate, funding.

"I won't ask why there's an armchair in the middle of your floor," said Hermione, "Some sort of role-play, I imagine ..."

No one spoke.

Hermione sniffed the air. "Has someone been smoking?"

"None of us smokes," said Harry. Smoking was rare among wizards and banned in the Ministry.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sure I can smell something. A cigar, perhaps?"

_Bugger_ , thought Harry, as the room fell silent and eyes were averted. "We ... er ... did have a suspect in earlier on."

"And do you allow your suspects to smoke?"

"Well, no ..."

Hermione recognised blatant evasiveness when it was staring her in the face.

_Bugger_ , thought Harry. _Bugger, bugger, bugger_.

"So who was this suspect?"

"It was a Miss Parkinson," said Malandra Travers, who had brought her in.

"Pansy?" asked Hermione.

"The same," said Harry.

"Is Miss Parkinson a Death Eater?"

"No, but she has connections."

"I see, and what is she up to these days?"

"Well, no one in the wizarding world can employ her, so—"

"I always said that was a stupid, short sighted piece of legislation," said Hermione. "But do go on. What's Pansy doing now?"

"Like some others in her situation, she's existing on the fringes of the Muggle world, without any proper Muggle documentation."

"So what is she doing? Dealing drugs? Prostitution?"

"She's an entertainer," said Malandra.

"An ecdysiast," added Simon Farthingfield, smirking.

_Why does every office have at least one smartarse?_ wondered Harry.

"That's a stripper," explained Barry Oake.

_And a buffoon_.

"Thank you, Mr Oake. I do know what _ecdysiast_ means."

"Sorry, miss – I mean, Minister."

"So you arrested a stripper. Why?"

"It was a request from MLE," said Harry. "It's standard practice when there's a possible Death Eater connection—"

"Yes, yes, I know the rules. But why was Magical Law Enforcement interested in Parkinson?"

"It seems someone from the department saw her act and thought she might be using magic."

"What, to vanish her clothes or something?"

"Er, not that exactly."

"She smokes a cigar as part of her act," said Malandra. "Naked"

"That doesn't sound especially erotic," said Hermione. "Or magical."

"The way she smokes it," said Farthingfield, "may not be magical but it's definitely erotic."

"She spreads her legs," added Oake, who for all his youth was starting to sound like a grubby pervert, "and puts it in—"

"Spare me the detail," sighed Hermione. "I think I've got the picture." She looked at Harry. "So ... you had a demonstration?"

"We had to make sure—"

"That she wasn't using magic. Of course." 

"It was her suggestion. Nobody forced her."

"She was all for giving us the whole routine," said Farthingfield.

"But we didn't have any music," added Oake, who clearly felt cheated.

"The cigar's not part of her main act, anyway," said Malandra. "It's what she calls her party piece, and sometimes she does it for an encore."

Hermione glanced at the armchair sitting conspicuously in the centre of the room. "Well, at least you made her comfortable."

"She asked for the armchair," said Farthingfield. "Said it was essential for her act."

"It was, too," breathed Oake, "definitely. She—"

"Thank you, Mr Oake." Hermione silenced the perspiring junior Auror with a gesture and turned to Malandra. "I think I'd prefer the details from Miss Travers."

"Well, she takes her clothes off," said Malandra. "Even without music that's quite a performance. It involves audience participation." She glanced towards Barry Oake and Simon Farthingfield, each of whom had the grace to blush.

"Go on."

"Then when she's wearing nothing but stockings she sits down, drapes a leg over each arm of the chair and produces a cigar."

"Produces it from where?"

"A little bag of things she uses in her act. I checked it myself – it's just sex toys and stuff. It's not big enough for a wand. I can make a list for you if you want."

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Okay. Well, then she, er ... inserts the cigar, takes out a Muggle cigarette lighter and looks round for a volunteer."

"Let me guess ..." Hermione's gaze shifted to Barry Oake.

"Well, she asked," muttered Oake, "and, anyway, it was amazing. I mean, she actually puffed on it. Made it glow. And then she took it out and blew smoke from—"

"That will do. I can see she made a deep impression on you, Mr Oake." The unfortunate Oake squirmed beneath the Under Secretary's scathing glare, while Farthingfield smirked and Malandra Travers sighed.

Hermione turned to Harry. "And did she use magic?" 

"Apparently not."

"Pure muscle control," explained Malandra. "I got her to do it again to be sure. I was actually quite impressed."

For the first time, Hermione blushed. "And you all witnessed this ... demonstration?"

"Er, yes," said Harry. "And MLE, of course, since it was their case."

"And the accountants," added Farthingfield.

"Accountants?"

Harry shrugged. "They get everywhere."

"And some girls from reception," said Oake.

"So let me just check that I haven't missed anything," said Hermione, sounding distinctly unimpressed. "You've had half the ministry in here, watching a naked stripper puffing on a cigar with her—"

"I don't think it was half the ministry—"

"Don't split hairs, Harry. Have I got the drift?"

"Yeah, that's about the size of it."

"And then what?"

"Well, she wasn't actually using magic so we had to let her go."

"I shall be fascinated to see how this looks on the file."

"It's not on the file." 

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Harry shrugged again. "She wasn't charged with anything. We made a note in the diary, but we didn't take a mugshot or record her details."

"So if someone wanted to contact Miss Parkinson, say, to make sure she wasn't dissatisfied with her treatment at the Ministry?"

Malandra Travers sighed. "I think you'll find Barry has her business card."


End file.
